A Brother's Promise
by StarProphecy7279
Summary: Prussia once made a promise to his little brother that he would always keep him safe. However, when the Holy Roman Empire is dissolved, what can he possibly do? Nations that no longer exist are killed, and anyone who stands in the way of that follows...
1. Prologue: Never Let You Fall

A/N: Certain parts of this story are not precisely canon. This was intended as a prequel to a fic I wrote for my friend's birthday: Past, Present, Future, You're Mine, but it didn't end up consistent so… yeah. It was never necessary to read that story to get this one at all but it my opinion, it's quite fun and fluffy. Check it out, if you get the chance.

OMG SPOILERZ:

Let me start off by warning you, I don't speak German. I'm relying on Google Translate so I can't say if this is accurate or not. Most likely not from the stuff I've seen translating to Spanish, it's probably not very. (It translates "I love you" to "Te Quiero." This means "I want you." as well as "I love you" so, at least from my secondary language knowledge of Spanish, you would only say this to a lover. Fun facts.) Since it bothers me so much when you have to scroll down to find a translation, I'll translate before each chapter so it may behoove you to read the author's notes. Unless there's tons of other foreign speak in which case, I'll translate in text.

Words to know for this chapter:

Opa= Grandpa (refers to Germania)

Ich Liebe Dich= I love you

Kleiner (Which I will probably be using a lot)= Little one. I just can't see the Awesome Prussia referring to HRE/Germany by National name.

And now onto the Hetalia angst!

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><p>When it came to the Germanic family, the nation that would eventually come to be known as Prussia, had always been the odd one out. The black sheep, if you will. This metaphor is quite ironic given, what his Opa used to refer to as his "aliment." He was albino, and though humans and even countries held light skin in high regard at the time of his birth, too much of a good thing was always bad. Where everyone else in his family had blonde hair in blue eyes, his eyes shown red, his hair so light it was nearly white, his skin just a shade darker than pure, untouched snow. This was part of the reason it had taken nearly two centuries for his Opa to introduce him as a nation.<p>

This was only one part of it of course, a bigger part being, Germania was simply embarrassed by him. The rest of his family were just like the stoic ancient empire, meaning—in Prussia's opinion—bland, emotionless and way too serious. As a child, still growing and learning from his Opa, he was told all the time to "stop acting like a human." Germania prided himself on his ability to hide what he felt and was greatly irritated by Prussia's complete lack of desire to conform to that particular Germanic trait. Prussia liked to laugh, Prussia liked to smile, Prussia liked to show off and gloat about his achievements. To Germania, this was childish. Out of rebellion, Prussia never grew out of it, and instead scoffed at his cousins who remained emotionless. So what if he wasn't human? They were given human emotions for a reason and he intended to use them for the better or worse.

This was reckless in the mid-evil world, which was why Prussia was not permitted to take his younger brother in when their grandfather fell: Opa and Austria both felt he was a bad influence, would raise him all wrong, teach him to give into his human emotions as Prussia often did (which, he supposed, made him a very cruel human). Of course, against Germania's will, Prussia _was_ the member of the family the young Holy Roman Empire seemed to get along with best, which meant he was given the task of explaining to the child the old empire was no more. For once, Prussia did not feel awesome.

"But I don't understand," the tiny jewel of the Germanic family insisted, his large eyes filling with tears, where he sat on the grass-covered hill Prussia had called him out to. "Opa was so strong! How could he have fallen?"

"He didn't exactly fall, Kleiner," Prussia tried to explain, resting a hand on the blonde head. "He just got too big to maintain himself. And honestly, I think he saw it coming, part of the reason he tried to instill so much of himself into us… well I should say 'you'. It's not like I ever listened to a word he said."

Holy Rome did not laugh, instead he pulled his knees up to his chest, and hugged them tightly, burying his face in his knees. Prussia put an arm around the little one, running his fingers through his hair.

"Austria's gonna take good care of you," Prussia murmured.

"Why Austria?" he asked, his voice coming out muffled. Prussia laughed.

"Because it came down to him or me and, let's face it, I'd make a pretty bad parent. You wouldn't want to live with me; you'd always be at war, never out meeting cute girls or doing all the stuff you're supposed to do before you have to take on full responsibility as a nation. It's better with him," Prussia hoped Holy Rome didn't hear the sarcasm he couldn't repress. "Plus, Miss Hungary will be there too, and between you and me, she's a real tomboy. You can have an awesome time with her if you can convince her to break out of her meek, womanly-ness." Privately, he thought Hungary as a woman was scarier than she had ever been when she thought she was a boy.

"But… Austria's so…."

"I know right!" Prussia laughed before he could stop on himself. "But you'll be fine. I'm sure he'll instill some good values in you… like marriage for prophet and musical expression of emotions."

Holy Rome remained silent, his face still buried in his knees.

"What's troubling you Kleiner?"

"Bruder… am I going to die?"

Whatever Prussia had been expecting, it wasn't that. The shock shown plainly on his face when he demanded, "Where did that come from?"

"Opa was so sure I'd gain huge power… if that happens, who's to say _I _won't fall? Agh!"

He stopped speaking when he found himself being lifted off the ground by the waist. Prussia had gotten to his feet and was now hoisting Holy Roman Empire up above his head, grinning at him in his cocky way.

"Do you trust me?"

Holy Rome stared at him in confusion.

"Do you think I'll drop you?"

"I wouldn't put it past you," said Holy Rome looking down at the grass, wearily.

"I said_ you_, not Austria or France."

"…No?"

"Of course I won't! Which means you couldn't possibly fall," he shifted Holy Rome so he was holding him against his chest, his smile becoming softer in a way only his little brother ever saw. "Because I'll always be there to hold you up. I'll always keep you safe. Okay?"

For a moment, Holy Rome only stared at him, his huge blue eyes bright in his round, childish face, before the tears welled again and began to flow. In silence, broken only by the small sobs from the little empire, Prussia tipped Holy Rome closer and he wrapped his small arms around the older brother, holding him tightly in search of a comfort Prussia was surprised he could offer.

"I don't wanna die," Holy Rome moaned.

"You won't die. Not with the awesome me watching out for you. I promise, I'll never let anything hurt you."

It was several minutes before Holy Rome began to settle down and finally hiccuped himself into silence, still maintaining a tight hold on his brother's shoulders.

"Ich liebe dich, Bruder," The small nation murmured.

Prussia held him closer, glancing around to ensure there was no one else around before whispering back, "Ich liebe dich auch. And I swear, nothing will ever hurt you while I'm alive."

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><p>AN: D'awww Prussia_ does_ care. The first chapter will be up sometime in the next few days. Please note this was ONLY the prologue and the actual chapters will be much longer. So I'm not sure how the characterization for this one is going to turn out. I know Prussia and Germany aren't especially close in canon but I just can't help but adore German love! Platonic German love. Not a fan of the actual pairing. This story is really centered much more around Prussia than it is Holy Roman Empire/Germany and we're definitely going to end up seeing some interesting sides of him. I've got some wacky ideas and some strange situations in which I will station him.

Also, for some reason, at least for me, history surrounding the Holy Roman Empire is difficult to come by so I can't always guarantee the historical accuracy here. I try to keep it as close to what actually happened as possible but… no promises. If I make a glaring mistake that I don't correct in an Author's Note, please point it out. I love to learn ^-^

Which brings me to my first point about Germania… I'm not sure you can actually say he died. I mean, there clearly isn't a so named Germania anymore but it… I'd say he more evolved. And I couldn't find a shred of information while researching so, I'll never know. Also, there's a reason I didn't have Holy Rome call Prussia by name here: I couldn't figure out who he was. He most deffinately was _not_ Prussia at this point but I couldn't figure out who he would have been. Google Y U SO USELESS?

And… that's about everything I needed to point out here. See you next chapter. And to my friend that's going to troll this: Impress me.


	2. Chapter 1: The Death of a Nation

A/N: FFFF- ACT! Physics project! Why you require so much time! Sorry guys, real life go the better of me. Plus, I had to rewrite the beginning when I remembered… Prussia wasn't involved in the Battle of Austerlitz… damn you history and making my life difficult! This was supposed to be out quite a while ago.

Anyway, moar ANGST! It gets happier after this chapter though there's still a lot of sadness.

And before anyone asks, no, I don't hate France. He's pretty awesome. He just had to be the bad guy here because that's how it happened historically.

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><p>"Kesesesesese, I see you've finally learned your proper place, Austria: at my feet."<p>

It was a mark of how tired Austria clearly was that he did not respond to Prussia's taunts and instead remained motionless, face down in the dirt at the very edge of their campsite, apparently too spent to continue into his tent.

"So, how's it feel to have your ass handed to you by _France_."

"Grow… up…." Austria requested, his voice muffled as he spoke into the ground.

"Never."

"Ugh…," The sound of Austria moaning in pain had Prussia shivering with excitement. Cocking an eyebrow in interest, Prussia offered the pompous aristocrat no assistance in getting to his feet as Austria pushed himself up, glaring at his cousin in pure irritation. "What are you even doing here? I thought you didn't want to get involved in a war with France."

"I don't. But unfortunately Holy Rome lost this one too. And in all honesty," he added, crossing his arms and looking out at the smoke-blanketed battlefield. "I'm not crazy about the amount of power old Frog Face has been gaining in Europe. I might have to beat his ass down a couple of times to get his ego back in check."

"Somehow, I don't think you're qualified to put a check on anyone's ego."

Prussia grinned, his usual, cocky grin, accepting the jibe as true.

"Where_ is_ Holy Rome, anyway? Being around you too long'll suck the awesome right outta me."

"He hasn't returned yet," said Austria, attempting to roll a kink out of his neck. "France seized his vital regions. He may be awhile."

"Ouch," Prussia said, wincing. "Poor kid's gonna be sore for a week."

"That's going to be the least of his problems…."

Prussia looked up in the direction of the voice, his brow furrowing in confusion. Hungary was standing in the mouth of the tent she shared with Austria, her green eyes downcast, staring at the ground with an intensity Prussia had only ever seen in the midst of a bloody battle. Her left hand—slender by appearance but Prussia knew better—was crushing a letter upon which was a scrawl Prussia recognized.

"That from said pussy?" Prussia asked, referring to France. "What's he have to say?"

Hungary was silent for a moment, her eyes remaining trained on the dirt beneath her feet, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood.

"In light of his recent surrender, France's boss has seen it fit to discontinue the Holy Roman Empire."

"'Discontinue?'" Prussia repeated, looking up at Hungary, unable to read her expression. "What does that mean?"

If Prussia had been paying closer attention, he would have seen how visibly shaken Hungary was, despite her attempts to hide it. Hungary's attempts to become meek did not suit her (Prussia still thought she had a bigger dick than any of them.) and she still retained a lot of the pride that wasn't associated with her gender. Where other women would break down and cry, she would simply tremble, hoping no one would notice. When Prussia finally did, he didn't have time to brace himself.

"He's been dissolved."

In the moment that followed, no one spoke; even the sounds of the armies out on the battlefield seemed to cease, or perhaps they were just lost to Prussia behind the loud pounding of his heart in his ears. Dissolved? As in… dissolved? Holy Rome was losing his nationality? No! That couldn't be right! He was just a kid!

"B-but…," Prussia's voice sounded all wrong in his ears. He sounded pitiful, weak, pathetic, all things the Awesome Prussia was not. "But they're not actually going to go through with… with the standard, right?"

By "the standard" he meant what was typically done to a national avatar that had no place to represent.

"It's scheduled for tomorrow morning."

"He can't do that!" Prussia had no memory of moving, he just knew that a white hand was now gripping the front of Hungary's uniform. "They can't kill him, he's just a boy!"

"He's a dissolved empire."

"Who's a child!"

"Don't yell at her!" Austria demanded, striding over to the two and pulling on the hand Prussia held her with. "Do you think_ we're_ not upset about this?"

"Of course you're not!" Prussia screamed, rounding on the damned aristocrat and moving his death grip to his new scapegoat. "You can't feel anything! Wasn't it _your_ boss who surrendered him to France?"

He was forced to let go when stars erupted in front of his vision in response to a sharp blow to the back of his head. With a scream of outrage and pain, his hands went to hold the damaged area as his head suddenly felt much too heavy and he stumbled in an attempt to stay on his feet.

"Ugh… the attack of the gender-confused bitch."

"Do you think you're the only one here who cares about Holy Rome?"

"Sometimes I wonder," Prussia shot back, his hands still on his skull where a sizable lump was forming. "Ah shit!" with a speed grown from centuries of nothing but military training, he dropped to the ground, dodging another blow from Hungary's frying pan. Where the hell did she even get that thing?

"Well you're not!" she screamed. "In case you've forgotten, we're the ones who had to raise him after Germania died!"

"In case _you've_ forgotten, you wouldn't let me see him! Try it again, chicky!" he added, grabbing the frying pan and doing his utmost to wrestle it out of her hand. After a moment of childish scrabbling with each other, Hungary's boot found it's way to Prussia's abdomen in a powerful kick that sent him sprawling back onto the ground in a frustrated heap. Though exhausted from this immature squabble and his sudden emotional turmoil, he refused to yield and jumped to his feet, turning on his heel and stalking out of the campsite.

"Where are you going?" Austria shouted after him.

"To save my little brother!" He called back spitefully. And he broke into a run, heading—whether bravely or stupidly—towards the French side of the battle field.

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><p>For all extensive purposes, Prussia didn't <em>hate<em> France. He just thought he was annoying and way too powerful right not. He was… kind of prissy when you thought about it, and such a goddamned pervert… not that Prussia had room to talk to talk but… goddamn it, Prussia was more awesome! That excused him!

Where was that goddamned pervert anyway? When Prussia got his hands on him, he'd rip his limbs off and give them to England to cook with. It'd be an improvement. Shit, why did all these goddamn Frenchies look alike? Where was their fucking leader?

"France!"

There he was, Prussia saw the idiot turn at his call, a look of surprise his pretty boy face. The shock quickly turned to a cold,condescending glare. Goddammit that was _his _face! This was _so_ on!

"Did you want to join the fight?" France asked, sarcastically. "I'd be glad to kick your ass."

The cold glare turned to shock when Prussia really did draw his sword as he sprinted the final stretch of land between them. The French soldiers still mingling about the battlefield raised their rifles unaware their fire arms would have no profound effect.

"I won't let you dissolve Holy Roman Empire!" Prussia shouted, stopping with three feet between them. What was left of France's composure fell. Raising a hand to signal his men to drop their guard, his demeanor became much colder than was common of him.

"It's already been done. All that's left is to carry out the deed."

"He's just a kid, dammit!"

"He's a persona with no country to represent. You know the law. And you know the penalty for standing in the way of an execution."

"You really think you can kill the awesome me?" Prussia asked, condescendingly, moving closer. France drew his sword as well.

"You think you can survive another war in your condition?"

It was a rarity to see Prussia display his anger; even in war, facing his worst enemies he always appeared excited, conceited. It took a lot to anger him but when he was, it was explosive. Right now, he was past nationship or political policies, he was past the Kingdom of Prussia keen on protecting a fellow German state. Right now, he was human—an older brother desperate to keep his baby brother alive. Without considering the consequences, he threw down his sword, striding toward the man in front of him, disregarding the unfair advantage France had of being armed. France did not strike, allowing Prussia to grab onto his shirt and force his face into his.

"You're going to kill a child?" Prussia demanded. "He's young and in love—if it were up to him he'd have been born human! All he's ever wanted is to end these wars and go home to see Italy. What about _him_, huh? Can you really look Italy in the eyes and tell him you killed the boy he loves?"

From very far away, Prussia realized just how pissed off he must be if he was talking about that mushy, French stuff; the Awesome Prussia had no time for the pathetic affairs of the heart, it was merely a distraction and a waste of time.

"Th-they are just children!" France shouted. "They know nothing of love!"

"This coming from _you_, you frog-faced hypocrite!"

"I'm under orders! There's nothing I can do!"

"You can refuse! You can do the right thing and-"

"The right thing for whom?"

Prussia only glared.

"I'm a country; my first priority is to my people. I will not uproot my leader for a child that isn't even a nation. Now I demand you unhand me you powdery, barbarian."

That was the final straw: before France had the time to dodge, Prussia reeled back and slammed his fist into the Frenchman's face. France's cry of pain and outrage was almost unnoticed by the enraged country. The force of the punch threw France back onto the ground where he lay clutching his nose, blood spilling onto the broken battlefield from beneath his fingers. The French troops began to open fire but Prussia didn't care; he could barely feel the bullets in his adrenaline and it wasn't as though a shot from a human would cause any lasting damage. He fully intended to resume proving France's jibe about him being barbaric accurate, but he was grabbed from behind before he could get close enough to land another hit.

"Calm down, you're embarrassing yourself."

Oh all the goddamned people-! If his pride had been wounded before, it was absolutely shattered now.

"Let go of me, Austria!"

"You know, there's a reason Germania didn't acknowledge you as a nation for two centuries."

"He didn't realize Albinos are fucking awesome!"

"That's not exactly what I had in mind," Austria stated, holding Prussia's arms in a vice behind his back. How the fuck could he manage to do that after losing?

"Oh, you mean the fact I can feel something? Well Holy Rome can feel too, that's why he gets along with me better: we can both express something other than stoic dullness!"

"And that wonderful trait is what will get you killed if you don't stop fighting this!" France had stormed back over to him and Prussia received great satisfaction in seeing the bend in his pretty-boy nose. "Are you really going to risk your people for him?"

His defiance made him want to scream that the answer was yes, that he'd gladly put his people on the line for the good of his kid brother but the adult in him that was rarely given a chance to come out held him back. Inwardly, glaring at France and cursing Austria, he knew they were right. The life of a nation was one of absolute servitude: they were taught from the moment they were born that they were to put their people before anything else, including their personal relationships with others. Their people were what kept them alive and without their support, a nation was nothing. Prussia knew that… but goddammit he couldn't just stand here and do nothing! This wasn't right, dammit!"

"You know… it's not as though I _want _to kill him…."

Fuck it. He couldn't win like this. As much as he hated to admit it, France was right and standing here struggling with his enemy and his cousin was getting him nowhere. Without another word to either of them, Prussia yanked his arms out of Austria's grip and, turning on his heel, took off back to his tent. If he couldn't win by force, he'd have to use a tactic he typically tried to avoid.

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><p>This had to be the least awesome thing he had ever done. He was the Kingdome of Prussia, goddammit! He didn't do stealth! He charged in, took what he wanted, and flaunted it. Unfortunately, that was not an option here; if he wanted to save his Kleine he'd have to do it like this: cowardly sneaking around the French occupied area of the desolate battlefield. It was so not awesome to be as pale as he was in this situation either: it made him easy to spot.<p>

_Calm down_, Prussia demanded of himself. _The Awesome you can do this. Get in, open the cell, get out. France will never be able to pin it on me. _

The good news was, he'd already taken out all the Frenchy guards (he was just that awesome) and it was a clear stretch of land between him and the cell Holy Rome was being held in. As long as he was quiet and France didn't come out, he could make it. He had to make it. He took off running for the cell, across the open field, hoping beyond hope he could at least get Holy Rome out before he was caught.

The young man was sleeping, curled up in a ball on the floor of the cell, his blonde hair mused from stress and sleep, his black uniform crinkled and torn from battle. For a moment, Prussia stopped and looked at him, the cuts and bruises visible through the tears in his clothes breaking his heart. The world had been impossibly cruel to the little one: he was still a child by country standards and yet he'd seen so much violence in his life, witnessed so much death, been the victim of so much loss. Not anymore. Prussia was not going to allow him to be hurt again, in any sense of the word.

As quietly as he could, Prussia stooped, pulling his dagger from his boot and jamming it into the padlock on the cell, moving it with practiced ease in the lock, in search of the latch.

"Bruder…?" The small _chink_ of metal on metal had woken the ever light sleeper. Prussia glanced down at the young empire to see him pushing himself into a sitting position, his blue eyes—just beginning to thin out with age—gazing sleepily up at the intruder.

"_Shhh!_" Prussia hissed, going back to his task. "Do you _want_ the Frenchies to hear you?"

"What are you doing?" he muttered, one hand going to rub at his eyes.

"What's it look like I'm doing? I'm picking a lock."

"Why?"

"That place looks fun, I wanna hang out in there with you—what the hell do you think?"

Holy Rome winced at his brother's raised tone but was not deterred from his questioning.

"You can't let me out. France will know it was you."

"He doesn't have anything to support that theory," Prussia brushed him off, squinting at the stubborn lock. Where was the damned latch?

"Except the fact you're the only one who would."

"That's not true. I'm surprised Hungary isn't here yet. And then there's always the possibility you escaped on your own."

"With what, the sword they confiscated when they took me prisoner? The knife that's now under France's pillow."

"Maybe the cross you have around your neck? All things are possible with the help of the Lord."

"You don't even believe in God!"

"Shut up!" Prussia hissed, ceasing his attack on the lock, fearing he had heard something. After holding his breath for a moment and hearing only silence, he continued. "And I do so believe in God… I'm just not the best Christian. Even the awesome me isn't perfect."

"You haven't thought this through at all, have you?"

"Got it!" Prussia muttered triumphantly, ignoring his brother's question as the latch sprang open. Without hesitation, Prussia pulled the gate open and grabbed his younger brother by the hand. "Come on, you gotta get outta here."

"And go where? I'm a dissolved Empire! I can't outrun the entire world!"

"You'll fall of the radar of the other countries. You just have to blend in with the humans."

"Bruder, France may be a lot of things, but he's not stupid. He'll know it was you who helped me. He's already beaten all of us down and if you're sentenced to desolation, we both know Austria won't help you. I can't let you be killed because of me!"

"Now is not the time to be noble!"

His eyes shining with obstinate determination, the dissolved empire stood. Prussia suddenly found himself impressed by how tall the younger empire had gotten in recent years: Prussia barely had to look down to meet his eye anymore. With a strength Prussia was not expecting, the ex-Holy Roman Empire yanked his wrist from his older brother's grasp and, reaching forward for the bars, pulled the cell shut with a clang.

"Holy Roman Empire!" Prussia hissed, and was surprised to see his expression did not falter: Holy Rome had learned to associate the use of his full national name with reason to worry: It always meant he was in big trouble. Now however, he stared back with just as much irritation as was prevalent in his older brother.

"Kingdom of Prussia," he challenged cheekily. Prussia stared at him, in a state of complete disbelief.

"I don't understand you…." Prussia began softly. "Do you _want_ to die?"

"Of course I don't want to die. But if I have to choose between dying and putting my family at risk, I'd rather die."

"_I'm_ the older brother, idiot! Let me take care of it!"

"Nein."

"Dammit, I made you a promise, don't you remember!"

"Ja, I remember: you told me you'd always be there to protect me. And by coming out here and being willing to put your life on the line to save me, you've kept that promise."

"Kle-"

"Bruder, I'm not the little kid I was when Opa died. I'm well aware you can't protect me from everything. I'll be found wherever I go and killed no matter what. I know you still see me as a baby but I'd like to face something as a man just once in my life."

"Kleine-"

"I've hidden behind you and Austria and Hungary my entire life. Even if it's my last moment, I want to face something on my own. Bruder," a hand slipped through the bars, reaching for one of Prussia's and grasping it affectionately, "you don't have to be afraid. If you really believe in God, you know I'll be fine."

"K-kleine…," Prussia had tipped his head forward, the torn ground on which he stood blurring, "you can't die… you can't leave me. You have to live."

"For the record, I'm breaking a promise too. I promised Italy I'd come home one day. Will you… will you tell her… that I'm sorry?"

For once, the Awesome Prussia was at a loss for words. He was trembling, visibly shaking as he held his Kleine's hand like a lifeline. Unable to speak through his constricting throat, he lunged forward, his arms snaking through the bars and embracing his little brother, holding him as closely as he could through the cell. The dying nation wasted no time in returning the hug; Prussia could feel him shivering and heard a small sob escape his lips. Whether the tears falling onto his shoulder were his own or Holy Rome's, he did not know nor did he particularly care.

"Ich liebe dich, Bruder," the fallen Empire whispered.

"Ich liebe dich auch..."

Neither of them had any concept of how long they stood there, holding each other, attempting to offer some small ounce of comfort to one another, wishing the slowly lightening landscape would return to dark and dawn would never come. Their shoulders and faces grew sore from their strains against the bars imprisoning the child but neither of them was willing to move. It wasn't until the sun was beginning to peak over the horizon and a voice screeched "Who's out there?" that they finally parted from each other, wiping their eyes and shivering in the now unbearable cold.

"Go to hell you infernal frog," Prussia ground out automatically, unable to think of anything cleverer to say.

Execution, battle, dinner party, France always dressed the same: over-zealous and ridiculous. And he wondered why it was so easy for his enemies to spot him? Moron.

"You idiot! You were trying to break him out, weren't you?" France concluded.

"Suck my dick," Prussia said flatly, unable to meet France's eye.

The Frenchman exhaled, heavily, a hand rubbing the back of his neck beneath his pretty-boy ponytail.

"I'm going to let this slide."

"Your kindness is unmatched."

"Am I going to have to restrain you?" France's tone wasn't sarcastic in the least.

"Eat a dick."

"Prussia, I can't have you interfering."

"Get bent."

France sighed again, staring at the ground, an emotion Prussia had no name for on his face before he called over his shoulder in French. Prussia didn't know what he said, and he didn't care. He didn't even bother looking up when he heard the footsteps. Who cared who approached him or why?

"HEY!"

Apparently, the men France had called were giving him rope. Prussia, unable to fight him off, now found himself with his hands forced behind his back, being tied to the cell bars behind which Holy Rome was watching with guilt in his eyes.

"Get off me, frog!" Prussia shouted, struggling as best he could. France ignored him completely and continued securing him with practice ease, ensuring Prussia would not be able to get himself loose.

"I'm sorry," France said softly, giving Prussia the kind of pitying look that would have gotten him punched had Prussia been able to move. He attempted to throw a kick at him regardless but missed. "I really am. I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't have to."

Again, Prussia was speechless, completely unable to think of a response. He simply glared, his red eyes shooting daggers into the guilt-fogged blue.

Without another word, France turned, pulling the key from around his neck, and pausing to blink in confusion when he realized the lock was missing. He shook his head, recovering quickly and pulled the door open. Holy Rome stood mirroring his older brother's previous expression, his young, blue eyes unable to hold quite the same fire but still able to frighten. France, used to the Germans' glare, did not even wince.

"Are you ready?" He murmured.

Holy Rome didn't answer, just stood there continuing to glare. France sighed.

"Turn around."

Holy Rome did so, securing his hands behind his back so France could put the cuffs on. They clicked into place and France dragged him out of the cell, turning him and shoving him forward.

"Kleine, Ich flehe dich an, gegen ihn kämpfen!" Prussia shouted after him. [Little One, I'm begging you, fight him!]

"Lebewohl, Bruder," Holy Rome shouted over his shoulder, as France pushed him off. [Farewell, Brother.]

"Kleine!"

But he did not respond again. The Holy Roman Empire kept his eyes forward, back straight, refusing to look over his shoulder, ignoring his brother's shouts after him. Even after they had disappeared from sight, over the crest of one of the hills in the distance, Prussia continued to scream, begging someone he knew wouldn't hear him to run. His shouts did not cease until he heard the shot.

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><p>AN: Out of character? Possibly. He's grieving, I think it works. And as for France, his out of character denial of l'amour was really him attempting to appease himself. To put it simply, he felt guilty and was trying to deny Holy Rome and Italy's feelings for each other to make that guilt less prominent. Holy Rome's comment about Prussia's disbelief in God comes from... pretty much my own understanding—correct or otherwise—of Prussia. The Kingdom of Prussia and the Teutonic Knights especially were very religious countries but I never got the feeling Prussia yielded to that in anytime other than hitting other nations on the head for being pagan. Kind of like how America is very Christian and that makes its way into US politics and policies despite that being against American Constitution (*bitter American*) but the character America doesn't seem to give his religion a second thought.

And yes, I am aware Prussia didn't really care about the dessolation of the Holy Roman Empire historically but this is Hetalia and if Holy Rome's going to die, Prussia's going to be sad. At least in my head. And I also know the desolation of the Holy Roman Empire didn't happen over night like this but... shut up! And I'm well aware Hungary wasn't involved in the Battle of Austerlitz but... yeah.

Please ignore all logic errors because trust me, there's a lot of them. The original, historically inaccurate chapter was better but... hmph. Oh well. Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 2: Final Goodbye?

A/N: SORRY! Computer trouble. Way too little way too late. From now on, I'll try to make them at least monthly.

FOR IMPORTANT INSIGHT, SEE THE AUTHOR'S NOTE AT THE BOTTOM OF THE PAGE.

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><p>The ensuing silence was defining in the still morning air, as the echoes of the gun shot faded off into the distance. Prussia's knees suddenly felt impossibly weak and, had he not been tied to the cell, he was certain he would have fallen.<p>

"W-what the hell…?" he muttered to himself, unable to see the ground anymore through… what the hell, why was he crying? What was this? He didn't fucking cry! He was the Awesome Prussia! So what was with this… totally unawesome feeling in his heart? … almost like a hole, a missing piece. "Dammit…."

He took several deep breaths, attempting vainly to calm himself, but found with each gasp, his inhalations became faster until he was hyperventilating, feeling lightheaded as he tried to deny what he knew had just happened. But the still fading echo of the gunshot made it impossible. The Holy Roman Empire was gone. And suddenly, nothing mattered.

A period of time passed. Prussia didn't know how long it was, it could have been a minute or a year. He found he didn't care. He only continued to stare at the torn ground beneath his feet, seeing it only because it was in his line of sight, uninterested in what he was actually looking at. It wasn't until some began messing with his restraints that he even blinked. Jumping, having not even realized anyone was approaching, he turned to look over his shoulder, searching for who was touching him.

The blood was the first thing he noticed. Seeing France covered in blood was not an uncommon occurrence, whether it was his or someone else's, but this instance made Prussia's stomach turn, just knowing where it came from. It was only a small amount on his fingers, but it was still enough to have Prussia seeing red.

France didn't speak to him as he untied him from the cell, didn't say a word as the tie fell to the ground and Prussia lowered his arms. As France turned and began to walk away, Prussia stood motionless, still staring at the ground, deaf by the pounding of his heart in his ears. After a moment, he slowly looked up, letting his red-eyed gaze fall on France's retreating back.

"Hey France…," he called softly. France turned to look back over his shoulder just in time to receive another fist to the face that sent him sprawling to the ground with a howl of pain.

"Consider that one a declaration of war," he said casually, attempting to shake the pain out of his hand.

"You're really going to start a war with me over this?"

"I don't like the amount of power you've been gaining in Europe. I'd like to lessen your influence."

"Prussia-"

In the next moment, France was being pinned to the ground beneath the heal of Prussia's boot, looking up into a face he had never before seen so angry; there wasn't a spec of cockiness or condescension present, his glare was icy and it was evident he was holding back his desire to rage at him further.

"You'll regret this," Prussia's voice was barely more than a whisper. "By God, I swear I will make you pay for this. If it were up to me, you'd be dead."

"You think you can kill me?" France challenged.

"I think you know me better than that."

The bright blue eyes met the red like ice to fire, Prussia's hateful expression shaking France to the core though he'd never admit it. The answer was yes, Prussia did thing he could kill France. Prussia was unpredictable when angry, everyone knew that, and there wasn't a doubt in his mind he would die at Prussia's hand if Prussia was ever given the chance. He gulped softly, forced to continue staring at those eyes, not those of a nation, not even those of a human, but of a monster; a demon that wanted him dead. And to think they used to be best friends. It was heartbreaking. When Prussia finally stepped back, allowing France to get shakily to his feet, France turned from him and stalked off, too shaken too look back. With one final call to his people in French, he was gone.

With France out of sight, Prussia's weakness overcame him: alone on the torn battlefield, he fell to his knees, his face in his hands, his breath coming up so shallow he worried about losing consciousness, not that it mattered. For the first time in his life, he had failed beyond reparation, in the one area it truly mattered. The promise he had made all those years ago lay shattered at his feet; he hadn't protected Holy Roman Empire. He had allowed him fall.

"Verdammit…," he whispered into his hands as the tears began to fall mercilessly from behind his closed lids, "I'm the least awesome person in the world…."

Certain of his solitude, he did not bother to keep his volume in check and as his sobs grew louder, his awareness of his surroundings shrank. Had he been paying attention to the stillness around him, he may have noticed the disturbance in the air, the clack of boots on the dirt behind him. It wasn't until someone knelt beside him and slipped an arm around his shoulders he even noticed anyone was there and by then it was far too late to save face.

His first reaction was to gasp at someone touching him and attempt to throw them off, but when he looked up into Hungary's face, saw the red lining her eyes and the unshed tears, he found he wasn't embarrassed to be found in such a state. Without a word, she pulled him to her, wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace. If it had been anyone else or under any other circumstance, he would have resisted, pushed them away, proclaimed he was awesome and demand they leave him alone. But he couldn't bring himself to do it now. Especially when he felt her begin to tremble with sobs as well. Instead, he brought his arms up, returning her hug, seeking comfort as much as hoping to find it in her.

"I'm horrible," he whispered, shocking even himself. "I must be the worst brother in the world."

"You did what you could."

"It wasn't enough. I promised I'd keep him safe and I failed."

"So did we."

For several long moments, they stayed like that, in that totally unawesome position, crying together on the broken battlefield as if they were still children and nothing had ever changed between them. But just like before, Austria had to show up and ruin everything.

"Elizebeta."

That voice was almost less welcome than France's at the moment. Purely out of spite, Prussia gripped her tighter.

"We have to go."

Despite Prussia's obvious desire for her to stay, she sat back on her hunches, whipping her eyes on the back of her gloved hand before she muttered, "I know."

Prussia didn't look at him, he didn't want to see him or be seen. He titled his head forward, letting his silver hair fall over his eyes, hoping it would protect him from the humiliation of being seen like this. He exchanged no words with Hungary as she stood, didn't even move as he heard her walk away. He could honestly stay here forever. Or at least he could had if not been for….

"You are such a hypocrite."

Leave it to this slimy, pompous, condescending aristocrat to kick him while he was down.

"Oh am I?" He asked his voice trembling with repressed sobs and rage as he still refused to look up at him. "Do tell."

"You've always criticized us for not appealing to our human emotions when you're more guilty of that than any of us. I may be serious and—in your eyes—dull, but you… you're completely heartless."

"_I'm_ heartless?" Prussia nearly screamed in his shock and outrage. He forgot his promise to keep his eyes downcast in that moment and jumped to his feet, staring Austria down to the best of his ability. "_I'M_ heartless! I may be cruel when it comes to battle but at least I can feel something when a family member is killed! At least I don't feel the need to marry for profit!"

"And at least I don't feel the need to hide what I really feel behind a mask."

"You're hilarious."

"That obnoxious, conceited attitude of yours has never been anything more than an attempt to avoid getting close to anyone so you'll never have to worry about feeling any actual affection. What's more upsetting, Prussia? The fact that you're younger brother was killed or the fact you succumbed to loving someone and they were taken away from you. Again."

"God as my witness, Austria, if you turn this into her again, I will kill you where you stand."

"I wasn't going to. This is the making of a guilty soul."

"I am not nor have I ever been in love with your he-she wife, okay?" Prussia shouted. "I thought she was a _guy_ for half of her life! You want a shemale, you can have her!"

"Is that why you were clutching her so tightly?"

"Believe it or not, I have no desire for your life. I never have. I _enjoy_ fighting. I _enjoy_ gaining my own accomplishments. I _enjoy_ not being tied down. Now why don't you take your aristocrat ass back to your piano and leave me to what I do best?"

"You mean sulking over your loses?"

Why was he still standing here putting up with this? He should be charging at that damned pianist, running him threw with his awesome sword for even _suggesting_ he lost often. Did he have any idea who he was talking to? He was the awesome Prussia! One of the most powerful nations in Europe! The best of the best! How dare he suggest he was a loser? He had to pay for that! So why couldn't he move? Why was he just standing there glaring at him? What the hell had that pompous pianist done to him? Before he could think of a way to respond, Austria turned his back on him.

"Go home, Prussia. Go throw yourself back into your power-crazed frenzy and plan to enact revenge. There's no one there to console you so you might as well deal with it like that."

"At least I'm dealing…," he muttered half-heartedly. But if Austria heard him, he didn't pay any mind. He continued walking away from him without a backwards glance.

"Bastard…," Prussia muttered to himself. He would not allow himself to even consider the ridiculous notions that idiot made. He was Prussia, the awesome Prussia; he didn't depend on anyone and he rarely promised to give to others. He liked to work alone… because when he didn't it blew up in his face. No! He wouldn't think that way. He did it because he wanted to and no other reason. Not because he'd always been terrified of feeling exactly like this, like his heart was numb… his capitol had probably been raided, though it didn't really feel like an attack. This certainly wasn't what humans referred to as heartbreak. Definitely not. That would mean that stupid jerk was right about him. That couldn't be allowed. How dare he even suggest that! How dare that… that son of a bitch stand around idly while his little brother was murdered? Where in the hell did he get off criticizing _Prussia's_ heart when he didn't even have the guts to stand up for what he claimed to care about? That fucking-!

Was he seriously crying again? Prussia raised a hand to his eyes and swiped at them, shocked as his hand came away wet. What the fuck was this? He was the awesome Prussia and the awesome Prussia didn't cry, especially not five times in one day!

"What the hell is happening to me?" He nearly screamed. This was unbearable. He felt like he'd been sieged for a year: impossibly weak and frail. His heart hurt, literally ached. This was terrible! He couldn't handle this… this grief!

"Kleine…," He remembered telling Holy Rome years ago that he didn't bow to anyone. Ever. For anything. But here he was now, practically on his knees for an empire who had barely had time to develop. Austria was right. He _was_ pathetic.

Desperately, Prussia swiped at his eyes, furious at the water that refused to stop, at himself for being so impossibly weak, at Kleine for… he couldn't even think it. Shakily, he glanced up at the hill where the shot had been fired, watching the over grown grass sway innocently in the breeze, just like the hill where he'd made that promise so many years ago…. His stomach lurched at the thought of what lie up there but he knew in his heart he would never be able to move on from this if he left without saying goodbye. Holy Rome deserved better, a more full apology, a more sincere show of his affections. He hadn't lied to him when he said he believed in God. Maybe his soul hadn't moved on yet and he was sitting there, waiting for him. It would be wrong to keep him waiting much longer.

But for several long moments, he still could not move. He stood frozen, arms wrapped around himself staring at the crest of the hill, a hand bunching his shirt over his heart. It took him half of this time to realize it was because he was afraid. He was terrified to go up there, to see, to confirm it for himself. He didn't want to feel this, he didn't want to have to see him, broken, bleeding eyes glazed over unseeing in the grass. He didn't want that image burned into his mind. Even thinking about it made him sick… but neither of them would find peace if he left without saying his last goodbye. He had to go. He had to do this.

"I'm not so weak," he told himself aloud. "I am not weak and I am not afraid!"

His body did not seem to agree with him; when he finally took his first step, he stumbled due to the trembling in his legs but he refused to allow himself to fall. One more moment of hesitation and he was moving, forcing his shaking legs to carry him up the highest hill in this world, feeling all the way his fatigue might kill him. He pressed onward regardless. However, his pace slowed when the young body came into sight as if standing beside him would seal the young man's fate. The sight of the blood staining the dormant grass turned his stomach and he had to stop for a moment, a hand clapping to his mouth, truly believing he might be sick. Silly, in the grand scheme of things: how many had died at his hand in the past? Yet the sight of the black-caped young man lying on his side, his back to his older brother pulled another tear from his eye. This time he made no effort to wipe it away.

"Kleine…," he called again, softly as he approached the fallen empire. "I'm so sorry…."

Prussia never apologized. Never. For anything. But dropping to his knees next to what was once the Holy Roman Empire, he found he could do nothing but that. A white hand reached out and touched the muse blond hair, dyed red in the back before the arms extended to pull the boy onto his lap.

Silently, Prussia thanked God his eyes were closed. He would, he knew, break if he had to see those lively, blue eyes clouded with death, lifeless and empty.

Why wouldn't these damn tears stop? Shit this was so not awesome! He couldn't breathe dammit! He was so glad no one was here to see him like this, or maybe he was hoping someone like France _would _happen upon him. He would surely die of humiliation which would mean he wouldn't have to stay here alone. Closing his eyes to stop the tears progression, he leaned down and pressed their foreheads together, Kleine's still warm from his recent demise.

"I'm sorry, Kleine," he whispered, letting the tears fall on his baby brother's face, "I'm so so sorry I couldn't keep my promise."

"His hand moved to cover the empty chest, confirm to himself that the soft heart he had always envied no longer beat… but… he thought he felt something. He lifted his head slowly, wiping at his eyes to clear his vision so he could better gaze at the still figure. There was no way. Look at all this blood… he couldn't possibly….

"Kleine?" Prussia called softly, giving his brother a slight shake. "Holy Rome?"

His chest was moving, he wasn't imagining it, Kleine was breathing. Holy crap, he wasn't dead! France had missed.

"Holy Roman Empire, can you hear me?"

He remained motionless, eyes closed, unresponsive, but the shallow motion of his chest was there.

"I can't believe it," Prussia whispered. "His aim has actually gotten worse."

He still felt numb but now it was a different kind completely: shock. Nothing more than raw shock. His brother had been sentenced to death but had escaped with his life. Whether France had done it on purpose or whether Kleine was simply the luckiest nation alive, Prussia didn't know nor did it matter. All that mattered was they still had a chance. If Prussia could get him out of here.

On pure impulse, Prussia lifted one of the lapels of his coat and tore at the fabric, ripping off a thin strip for a make-shift bandage. Lifting the ex-nation's head, he wrapped the fabric around the wound, hoping it would help staunch the bleeding and buy him some time before he could properly attend to it.

"Dammit," he muttered looking all around him, as if a solution to his problem would swoop down and present itself in song. What to do? He definitely couldn't leave him here but what were the odds he could carry him to safety completely undetected? And from the amount of blood on the grass, he needed to get Kleine to some medical help fast. Otherwise he really would die.

"Fuck," he threw a glance back at his brother before making a decision: he took of his coat and wrapped it around Kleine's head and upper body, shielding him from sight. Maybe if he ran into someone, he could claim it was a fallen Prussian soldier. It was out of character for him but at least it wasn't highly illegal to carry your people back to safety. But who would believe him?

"I am so fucked," Prussia muttered. "If we get out of this alive, you owe me big time."

And without another protest, he squatted, slipping his arms under the hidden body of his little brother and lifted him with a grunt. He was a lot heavier than he used to be but he'd have to deal with it.

"I'm gonna get you out of this Kleine Bruder," he promised under his breath. "I am going to fix this and it will be awesome. Just you watch."

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><p>AN: I probably shouldn't have put so much build up around the fact Holy Rome was still alive considering it's mentioned IN THE SUMMARY! OTL But oh well. I don't know about this chapter cut either. I was going to make it long but after the long wait I wanted to get something out. I'll start on the next chapter as soon as I post this.

Anyway, HEADCANNONS!

To put it simply, as far as I'm concerned, Nations can't harm themselves, humans can't cause lasting harm to nations and nations heal faster than humans. By a lot.

Another one is that, I feel Austria and Prussia get along so poorly because they're so similar. Prussia and Austria are both very conceited, think very highly of themselves and think the other envies the life they have. And to an extent, they're right. There will be more on that later. I think you picked up on my love of Pruhun somewhere in there? Yeah. But Austria/Hungary plays a big role in this story too. Just keep reading to find out.

I also have this belief that the Nations have one specific language that they and only they can all understand. It's how they recognize each other. They obviously have to speak to their people in their own language, which is why none of them ever speak to each others people in this.

So what will become of Prussia and the newly dissolved Holy Roman Empire? Bear with me to find out…. ^^"

Reviews compel me to write faster!


	4. Chapter 3: Those Blue Eyes

A/N: Here's the next one! Prussia, such derogatory language *shakes head* I typically get really offended when I hear a certain word beginning with an F that he uses in this chapter so don't think this reflects my thoughts at all. It's just the character and the year 1806.

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><p><em>Dear Diary, <em>

_Today I was either awesome or crazy. Well, I'm always awesome so it HAD to be a combination of the two. I mentioned yesterday I was gonna go on the covert operation I so cleverly named Save Kleine from the French Faggot…. Total success. Sort of. It didn't go EXACTLY as planned but… it worked out in the end. Holy Rome didn't exactly want to listen to his awesome big brother so Frog Face ended up marching him away and… shooting him in the head. But the awesome me figured out that his aim was still shit so I went up there, got the little idiot and saved his life! Am I awesome or what? _

_Of course, I'm obviously out of my mind too. I broke the law saving him. I mean, we all know I'm no stranger to breaking International Decrees but this one could really get me in trouble. If anyone finds out I saved him, I'll probably be dissolved as well. This poses a huge problem, though not one the awesome me can't figure out, for sure! I honestly still have no idea how I managed to get back to my campsite without anyone seeing me. I mean, how does no one notice the awesome me? But for once I'm glad. I doubt anyone would have believed I was just trying to give a proper burial for one of my men. I mean, I'm awesome but not that awesome… yet._

_Anyway, I'm hanging out at the battleground a little longer than intended to ensure everyone is gone before I embark on my epic journey of Get Kleine Home Alive Without Raising Suspicion. Like the name? I came up with it myself. I'm just that clever. _

_But even with all the trouble I had to go through to save him and am still going to have to go through to keep him alive… I really don't mind. He's my kid brother and that's what you're supposed to do, right? I mean, it's not like I'd curl up into a ball and be totally lost in grief if I really had lost him… but… yeah…._

Prussia paused in his scribblings, throwing a glance at the sleeping form of his Kleine in the bunk and breathed another sigh of relief when he noticed the steady rise and fall of his chest. They'd been here for several hours, waiting out the departure of the rest of the people and nations, Prussia rather anxiously as he thought Kleine might need a proper doctor… though it would not be very wise to bring him to one. He had removed the bullet as soon as he'd gotten them back and his brother's blonde head was now wrapped in a turban of bandages to staunch the bleeding but his obstinate refusal to open his eyes really had Prussia on edge. It was to be expect with a head wound that Kleine would be out of it for a while but it was still nerve-wracking. What if he never woke up?

Prussia shook his head to rid it of those depressing thoughts. Of course Kleine would wake up. Kleine was his brother which meant he was awesome which meant he would be just fine. He would wake up in due time.

He lowered his gaze back down to the book in his lap to continue his memorabilia but he was interrupted by a spastic cluster of feathers in his face.

"Hey!" he shouted as the little bird that seemed to accompany him everywhere began chirping and fluttering erratically, as if it were desperate to get his attention. "What? What is it? I told you to keep watch!"

His question was answered when he heard a voice much too close to his tent from outside.

"Prussia!"

His shout of surprise turned quickly to one of panic He threw an alarmed glance at his brother resting in his bed, before dropping his diary and bolting to the mouth of his tent just as the intruder made herself seen.

"Hungary!" he shouted, grabbing her by the wrists, forcing her back outside and twisting her around so her back was to the tent. "Hi! What brings you over here at… something wrong?"

He hadn't noticed at first, too preoccupied with ensuring she didn't see his brother, but now that he had a moment to look into her face, he realized something had her deeply disturbed. Hungary rarely cried, but when she was upset, she tended to hold her eyes wide and she trembled ever so slightly.

"What happened?" he asked, his hands moving from her wrists to hold hers in what he hoped to be a comforting gesture.

"It's Holy Rome! His body… he's gone! I went to retrieve it so we could send him off and it wasn't there! Someone stole it!"

"…oh?"

" 'oh?'!" she repeated. "Is that all you have to say? Doesn't that bother you?"

"Well… maybe it's better this way," his smile felt fake even to him. Prussia knew all too well Hungary could always see right through him. "I mean, funerals are totally unawesome. Kleine would definitely not want us to gather around crying over him. Ja…"

She stared at him.

"You're the one who took it, aren't you."

"What? No, I…."

The skeptical angry look she gave him made his excuses die in his throat.

"Okay, fine, you caught me. I just wanted to be the one to take care of him. Is that so wrong?"

She was staring at him again, looking at him so intently he thought she might be seeing through to his soul.

"What are you hiding?"

"Nothing!"

"Prussia!"

"I'm not hiding anything."

"Liar."

"I'm not lying."

But even as his mind searched desperately for a plausible explanation, Prussia knew it was hopeless; he couldn't lie to Hungary, never could. She always saw right through him. Those narrowed green eyes might have been x-raying his soul, searching through him for the truth that would put both of their lives in danger.

"He's still alive, isn't he?"

And apparently she had found it.

"I can't tell you," Prussia said without thinking. He'd just answered her question and Hungary suddenly looked very unsteady on her feet.

"Are you okay?" He asked quickly, reaching out to rest a hand on her arm to help steady her. It didn't seem to help as she raised a gloved hand to her head, apparently dizzy. "Here, sit down," he added, wrapping an arm around her waist to help her to the ground.

"How…?" she whispered hoarsely. "How is that possible?"

"Well France has always been a lousy shot," Prussia said with a shrug, only half joking. "Though I won't deny I wasn't expecting it. He got shot a point-blank range. He's a lucky little shit, isn't he. Lucky…."

Prussia exhaled deeply, feeling cold and shaky despite the sweat on his brow. Regardless of the lie he'd told to himself in his diary, the fate his younger brother had very nearly faced still shook him to the core. Just remembering it made him want to break down all over again. But now was not the time for that. Instead, he made a mental note to get on his knees and thank God for this miracle when he got the chance and put it behind him. He had to keep his focus if he planned on getting out of this mess.

Which is why he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a book of matches.*

"I didn't know you smoked," Hungary remarked as Prussia struck a match and held it to the cigarette in his mouth.

"Typically, I drink," Prussia replied nonchalantly, cupping his hand around the eager flame to protect it from the light breeze. He paused here to inhale until the tip of the cigarette glowed and he could shake the match out. "But—and you'll probably never hear me say this again—now seems like a good time to be sober."

"Who are you and what have you done with Prussia?"

"Exactly."

He took another deep drag before coughing and holding another cigarette out to Hungary in a silent offering.

"No thanks. Roderich doesn't like the smell."

"That's why God gave us perfume. And I know for a fact your hubby uses it himself."

"I'm not a fan of the taste either," she added.

"Suit yourself," Prussia said shrugging before taking another drag.

They sat in silence for several long moments, neither sure what to say.

"What exactly are you planning on doing with him," Hungary asked finally addressing the elephant in the room.

"No idea. Nurse him back to health first and then see where things go."

"It's not going to be that easy, Gilbert," Hungary said, so concerned she forgot they weren't close enough for her to use his human name anymore. She paused, wondering if he would be offended. If he was, he gave no indication so she continued. "You know this is illegal. You could lose your Nationship over this."

"I know and I really don't care," he said edgily. "He's my brother. It's my job to protect him. An execution I can handle but I'd never be able to live with myself if I left a kid to die for my own gain. I'm not _that_ heartless."

"I know," Hungary said sighing. "I'm just saying… you should probably come up with a plan. I mean, I've never heard of anyone surviving after they were dissolved before. For all we know, he's human now."

"I doubt it," Prussia said, expelling smoke into the distance as he gazed at the sky as if contemplating something far away. "I don't think we can become human. I mean, think of the ancients, they're empires fell apart and they still lived for a little while. I saw the Roman Empire the other day...He might die if I can't get him back on the map quickly enough though…." At this point Hungary wasn't sure if he was talking to her or himself. "I'll have to create a new country… how am I gonna do that…?"

"Isn't that more up to our people?" Hungary asked.

"Not if I can help it," Prussia said with determination, flicking his ashes onto the ground a getting to his feet. "You may want to head back," he added, offering Hungary a hand. She took it and got to her feet as well. "It might be suspicious for us to be talking too much. You hate me, after all."

"I don't hate you, Gilbert," she said automatically.

"Sure you don't," Prussia replied with sarcasm, dropping the cigarette butt onto the ground and stomping it out under his boot.

"I don't!" she insisted. "I hate the way you've treated me the last couple centuries but I could never hate you… not completely anyway."

"I don't really care," Prussia said smoothly, turning back to face his tent. "You can hate me if you want to. It doesn't make a difference to me."

Hungary glared at him as he ducked under the flap of his tent, deciding to stalk after him just as he was stooping to pick his diary up off the ground and flatten out the pages that had folded beneath it when it fell.

"If it doesn't make a difference to you, why did you hug me so tightly today?"

"You were there," he said, still not meeting her eye and setting the book back down on the chair he had occupied. "I would have hugged a rock at that point."

"Why is it so difficult for you to admit it?"

"Admit what?" Prussia snarled back, his red eyes narrowing in agitation.

"You're jealous."

Prussia barked out a sarcastic laugh, resting his hands on his hips and marching up to Hungary, hoping vainly to intimidate her by invading her personal space. As expected, she did not back down, only glared up at him, her green eyes meeting his red unfazed by the false anger.

"Why would the awesome me be jealous of you?"

"Not me. Austria. You've been jealous of him your whole life."

"I have not!" Prussia denied too quickly, making the mistake of keeping the eye contact. "What the hell could that pompous, piano-playing prick have over me?"

"You've worked your ass off for everything you have, fought dozens of wars to gain standing and power and, because of the way you look, had to work twice as hard as any of the rest of us to be recognized as a National Avatar. Roderich's furthered his empire by marrying other nations. We used to be best friends and you can't stand the fact that I got roped into what you think was a strictly political marriage with someone you hate the thought of being better than you."

"That's where you wrong, Little Miss Frying Pan," Prussia interjected poking her in the chest to further his point. "I _know_ it wasn't just a political marriage. Roddy's head over heels for you and you think he's oh so perfect and it was wonderful and full of rainbows and sunshine when you realized that and now you're living happily ever after with your white-picket fence and you're three cats and two kids and everything is abso-fucking-lutly perfect! Except when I come over and want to talk to you or my brother and that just screws up your fucking awesome Utopia because my cousin hates me with everything he has and always will and would do everything in his power to make everyone he associates with feel the same way. So I'm sorry if I got a little testy when you married into his family but watching my friends turn against me because of that jackass over and over again is _really _unawesome!"

"You do it to yourself, you moron," Hungary said, un-swayed by his speech. "You assume anyone who's married to him will start to hate you so you act in a way that guarantees they will. It's a self-fulfilling prophecy. And even if what you said is true, you're just as bad. Even now you're trying to make me hate him. Well the fact that I'm a woman doesn't mean I don't have my own mind. I'm perfectly capable of forming my own opinions of people despite what you or my husband might say."

"What _does_ your husband say?" Prussia asked, annoyed by the whole conversation.

"Not much actually; he's too classy to talk about people behind their backs."

"Well then he gets a fucking gold star."

He turned away from her, crossing his arms and turning to look at the bed occupied by the injured child. His eyes soften instantly at the sight and, without thinking, he dropped his defensive pose, letting his arms fall to his sides before he crouched, and knelt at his brother's bedside, running a hand over his bandaged hair. Hungary sighed before dropping to sit with her legs crossed next to Prussia also gazing at the young man, worry evident in her eyes.

"You know, you're technically an accomplice to this now." Prussia said, his eyes never leaving Kleine's peaceful face. "You can't tell anyone. I don't care if I go down for this but I don't want you to get mixed up in anything with me."

"How exactly are you planning on keeping this a secret?"

"Well," Prussia chewed on his lip, thinking, "if I can figure out how to connect him to another country in secret, I can introduce him to the world as that country and no one will ever be any the wiser. Actually, he should evolve with his people on his own and connect with whatever's going to happen."

"And until we need another country? He lives in the middle of Europe, he's not going to be easy to hide."

"Don't be such a Negative Nancy. I'll keep him in my house until he's ready to come out as a different country. As long as he stays on my land, I can keep tabs on him; I'll know if another one of us is around and can take steps to keep him hidden. I can train him up when he gets his strength back to be an awesome soldier and then, _boom_ one war for unification and he's the most awesome country Europe has ever seen. Next to me, of course.

"Brilliant plan," she said sarcastically. "One problem: I noticed you got here on your horse."

"Yeah, Xavier, he's awesome. Wait, how's that a problem?"

"How are you planning on riding back to your place with the kid without someone noticing?"

Prussia opened his mouth, preparing to reveal his magnificent plot, before closing it, realizing he had no explanation for that.

"Uh…."

Hungary gave an exasperated sigh before getting to her feet.

"I can convince Roderich to let you borrow one of our carriages… but he'll either want an explanation or something in return. So what'll you give us?"

"Tell him I'll pay for your next war," he said getting to his feet and stretching. "Hell, if I get this kid up and running before then, I'll convince him to start an alliance with us."

"That'll work," she said holding her hand out for him to shake. "But just because it's you, we're waiting for a big war to make good of that deal," she added cheekily.

"Awesome. You know how much I love a challenge." He grasped her hand and they shook on it, sealing the deal. She nodded to him and turned to go but when she reached the mouth of the tent she stopped.

"Gil… try to watch your back, okay?" she requested lightly over her shoulder.

At first, Prussia considered shrugging off her concerns, stating he was awesome and didn't need it, but when he looked at what he could see of her face from here, the words died on his tongue and he instead offered his signature cocky smile.

"Are you _worried_ about the awesome me? Aww, that's so cute. Maybe being married to Austria hasn't totally deawesomed you after all," he goaded.

"And you just lost all of my concern."

"Good. Don't stress yourself out over me. Wouldn't want you to get wrinkles now, would we?"

"Oh, shut up. I'm leaving."

"One more thing?"

"What?"

The next moment, she went ridged from shock when she found herself being held in a tight embrace from behind. It was common knowledge that you should object when Prussia (or France or Spain) tried to approach you from behind but… she allowed it, knowing it was okay and his intentions were innocent.

"Thank you," he breathed into her ear. "Thanks for… for earlier… and for helping me with him. It really means a lot to me…. And despite how I act sometimes, so do you. But if you repeat that to anyone, I'll deny it. Just so we're clear."

She chuckled, knowing that was the extent of his honesty. At a loss for words, she turned around and wrapped her arms around his neck, returning the hug properly.

"You're such a pain in the ass," she whispered in her own, sweet way.

"And I take great pride in it," he said pulling back, before leaning back in and kissing her lightly on the cheek. Her eyes widened in surprise at the gesture but she did not comment, instead, bid him one final goodbye and shuffled out of the tent, leaving Prussia alone with his new task at hand.

* * *

><p>For the first time in well over a millennium, no one had any idea where "The Awesome Prussia" was. No one, neither human nor Nation had seen or heard from him in nearly a month. His post overflowed with angry demands from his bosses and other countries he'd missed meetings with but he had no time for them. His hands were tied with what was beginning to feel like the impossible task of keeping his brother alive.<p>

Because the former Holy Roman Empire had not opened his eyes once in the last twenty-nine days. Yes, Prussia was counting. Twenty-nine days, sixteen hours, and forty-two minutes. In that time Prussia had spent only about twenty-two hours sleeping. He was exhausted but wouldn't be able to sleep if he tried. He was used to tending to his kid brother, used to sitting by his bedside, unable to sleep due to fears that his brother would need him, had been forced to look after him closely ever since the civil wars had begun but he'd rarely had to fear so deeply for his brother's life in the past and he hated it. He hated the uncertainty, hated the anxiety every time he entered the room his brother was sleeping in, hated the fear that he'd notice too late that his brother wasn't breathing one day. And more than anything, he hated the anticipation of something happening. He couldn't stand the fact that he didn't know how this was going to end. He wanted so badly for his brother to just open his eyes and explain what would happen next but obviously that wasn't going to happen. All he could do was pray. Which he did. A lot.

The rare moments when Prussia did manage to fall asleep on the floor next to his brother's bed did nothing to relax him. His brief dreams only served to show him endless, terrifying possibilities of what might happen if he never saw his brother's blue eyes again and he would awaken suddenly and frightfully, somehow more on edge than he had been before he'd managed to sleep.

After the second week of this process, his phone never seemed to stop ringing.* He could typically ignore it as people trying to reach him would get bored and hang up after ten or twelve rings but there was one person who would stay on the line all night knowing he was there, purely out of spite. Too tired to be the more stubborn of the two, he would answe. And that only served to stress him more.

"I told you, I can't leave the damn house right now! You'll get it back the second that I can!"

"I offered to come pick it up. Why are you being so difficult?"

"It's what I do. Two problems with that: one, you'd probably get lost trying to find my house and two, you're not welcome on my land, Austria."

"Racist," the Austrian replied sarcastically.

"Ja, ja, whatever."

"I know you're upset about what happened, but sulking is really unlike you."

"I have not been _sulking_!" Prussia spat into the heavy mouth piece he held in his left hand, while contemplating just throwing the earpiece across the room so he wouldn't have to listen to him anymore. "I've been busy!"

"With what? You missed the world meeting last week so it can't be your National duties."

"When's the last time I confided in you?"

"You sound stressed."

"You sound like an ass! Go play the piano!"

"I would really appreciate getting my carriage back, Prussia," Austria said in the calmest voice he could manage which still allowed Prussia to hear the masked frustration in his words.

"And I'd like the entire world as we know to be under my control. Both things will happen eventually so just calm the fuck down."

"Prussia!"

"Oh everything is such a-"

A loud crash from the direction of the kitchen made him jump, nearly dropping the earpiece of the phone. He caught it by the tips of his fingers just before it hit the ground.

"What was that…?" he muttered to himself, tuning out the dull prattle of Austria's tirade issuing from the ear piece he held by his side as he stared down his hallway, his ears straining to catch another sound. A few seconds of silence proceeded another crash.

"I'll call you back," Prussia said into the phone, not bothering to put the ear piece to his ear to hear Austria's response. "Not really but I'm hanging up now."

"Prussia!"

He dropped the ear piece back into place and set the phone back into it's spot on an end table in his sitting room. Cautiously, he stood from the armchair he'd been occupying during his tiresome conversation with the aristocrat. Closing his eyes, he focused inwardly on the area around him, feeling through the dark space behind the lids of his eyes for another presence. He felt nothing, which meant there wasn't another National Avatar anywhere in the Kingdom of Prussia. That sound was made by an intruding human.

Prussia rolled his eyes as he began to make his way down the hall, not bothering to keep quiet. If it was a human, he had nothing to worry about: he was much stronger than they were. All he'd have to do is grab them by the arm and boot them out. No problem. He supposed he _could_ call the cops and have them arrested but... ah he would be generous just this once. How awesome was that?

He heard another crash as he got nearer to the kitchen but he wasn't too fussed. He didn't care too much for his material belongings anyway, they were just there for decoration. Though it did strike him as odd that this intruder was making so much noise. They clearly weren't very good at the whole breaking and entering thing. With a sigh, he pulled the door to the kitchen open, intending to jump out and scare the shit out of whoever had decided his house would be a good one to rob but what he saw nearly made him scream. He and the noise-maker both froze, staring at each other, shocked red eyes into confused blue.

"K-Kleine?" Prussia muttered. "Y-you're up…."

Kleine did not respond at first to his brother's words and simply stared at him, his head—still wrapped in bandages-tilted to one side as if he was confused. Then, his gaze moved from his brother's face to the floor, where broken glass was scattered from whatever he had knocked over.

"I was hungry," he explained softly in an odd mix of German and the language the Nations used to communicate.

Prussia regarded him with confusion for a moment as he stared at the broken glass before rushing to his side when Kleine moved to take a step.

"Be careful!" he exclaimed, lifting his brother up and carrying him out of way of the shards, ignoring the fact it was difficult to carry someone nearly equal to you in height and weight. "Your feet are bare. You might hurt yourself."

"I was hungry," Kleine repeated when Prussia set him down.

"You were hungry… okay, I'll make you something I just have too…." The sentence died in his throat when he looked his brother in the face. Without another word, he lunged at him, engulfing Kleine in a tight embrace, gripping the pajamas he'd changed him into like a lifeline.

"Oh Gott…," he whispered determined not to let himself cry again. "Gott… I thought I'd lost you."

Kleine did not hug him back nor did he push him away. He stood there, completely still doing nothing as his brother held him tightly, swaying him back and forth. They stayed like that for several long moments before Prussia found it in him to pull back and look at his brother again. His face still held that same blank, confused look. His head tilted to the side again and he asked in the same mix of languages, "Who are you?"

Prussia's heart stopped.

"K-Kleine, it's me, Prussia. The awesome me! Big brother Gilbert, how can you not remember?"

"Prussia…," the boy spoke softly. "And… who am I?"

"You're-!" But Prussia cut himself off when he realized he did not know the answer to that question. And that's why Kleine didn't remember: The Holy Roman Empire didn't exist anymore. He had saved his brother's life but he still couldn't save his brother. This boy was only a shell of what Holy Rome had once been. That realization made Prussia want to rip his heart out of his chest.

For a moment, he was angry, angry at this boy who didn't know who or what he was, who looked like his brother but wasn't, but it passed quickly as reasoned with himself in his head: it wasn't this boys fault it was his. Nein, it was France's fault, France's fault for killing Holy Rome… but…. Prussia looked back up at the teenager still regarding him with that lost, confused look. By human standards, this boy was technically still his brother. Holy Rome may be gone but his brother still remained. He wasn't dead he was just… confused. He was a new developing nation just like they had all been at one point. And what a new developing nation truly needs is someone to explain what's happening to them. Prussia was the one that had saved the body which meant Prussia was the one that had found this new nation. Prussia sighed, thinking quickly before he stood up straight, deciding it would be better to do this professionally.

"Your name is Ludwig. And you are… you are Germany."

* * *

><p>AN: * Neither cigarettes nor matches existed at this point in time ^^" Well, cigarettes were basically little handmade things made of paper and stuffed with tobacco, essentially a joint but made of something that wasn't illegal. You'll hear matches were invited in the sixth century in China but they were really just sticks soaked in a chemical that went up easier than your average stick. I just needed that scene to push the story along. I know it's historically inaccurate. Damn you 19th century and your lack of essential things!

As for the telephone, I probably should have remembered that it wasn't invented until 1870 when planning this chapter but by the time I remembered my mistake, it was too late and that was the only way to progress the story the way I needed it to progress. Don't give me that look! This anime had a laptop computer with a connection to Google Maps in 1943! Setting a telephone and/or cigarette back a few decades is totally logical. And I'm not creative so :P

Also, "Germany" would technically be the German Confederacy and… also not exist quite yet ^^" But hey, it's Hetalia, this doesn't have to make perfect sense.

Anyone catch the reference to World War I in there? There had to be a reason Germany helped Austria out, right? Whoops. Looks like Prussia just screwed his brother over big time. xD

I have to apologize again for the delay in an update. Computer trouble paired with school made it difficult. But it's cool. I tend to work on this story when I'm supposed to be doing other things like… homework OTL

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It's gonna start getting happier after this. And there will likely be less of my own fan service but… no promises. ^-^


	5. Author's Note-sorry

I apologize for doing this. I know how annoying it is when authors take space out of the story to talk about their personal lives but I feel you all deserve to know where in the world I've been.

Let me start at the beginning: I suffer from Major Depressive Disorder. Obviously, this is a mental illness that makes it very difficult for me to feel happy or even content with the events of my life, and makes me blow negative things far out of proportion. I've tired to kill myself multiple times since my last updates and I've even landed myself in the psych ward twice. To make matters worse, my girlfriend decided it would be a good idea to write me a Dear John letter while I was in the hospital the first time and end our relationship of nearly a year. On top of that, she stole a lot of friends from me when she began telling them I had abused her through out or relationship, which is a blatant lie. She blew things out of proportion as well: every time I was slightly upset she assumed I was going to go home and kill or cut myself. Every time we had a disagreement, she assumed I hated her. She took my consolations that she was indeed helping me through my illness as threats of suicide if she left me. Little did I know she was lying when she told me she loved me and making MY mental illness all about her. I don't know if any of you follow Hetalia Diaries on Tumblr, but the admin is who I'm talking about. You'll seen a decent amount of her nonsense if you scroll through the pages. Most of her telling me to leave her alone were times when I was quite literally begging her to help me through a low point. I'm never going to understand her ability to look someone desperate for help in the eye and tell them to go away but I guess there are heartless people in this world.

But enough about all of that. The point I'm trying to make is that I have had an unbelievable amount on my plate for many months now. I lost my home, my job, and someone I thought cared about me over the course of four weeks and I just haven't had it in me to sit down and write about the happy adventures of Nations. But I want to let you all know that I AM starting to get better. We've found the right medications and I'm starting to feel much more like my old self. I AM still planning on finishing these stories, I've even began a few new stories that I plan on posting and I think you all will really enjoy (ADD much?) But as of now, I'm still recovering. I'm so sorry to keep you all waiting so long but my real life got the better of me. What can I say? Sometimes there's as much drama in reality as the stories here online.

I thank you all for being so very patient and loyal to the story. I'll have the new chapters out as soon as I can. Thank you again. I love you all so very much.

-Aly


	6. Chapter 4: Explainations

A/N: You've been waiting for months and I give you something barely 2000 words long. My apologies, dear reader.

"So... you're telling me I'm the personification of a nation that will one day come to be?"

"Pretty awesome, right?"

The young man, much more verbose now that he had eaten, knit his eyebrows together in skepticism. What he was hearing made absolutely no sense. Personified nations? Inhuman speed, strength and healing abilities? The ability to sense other nations? None of this was possible.

Admittedly, he couldn't make much sense of any of this situation: the last thing he could remember was waking up, not even an hour ago. His reflection told him he had to be at least seventeen, yet he had no memory of anything before this day. The only possibility he could come up with was that the injury he had clearly sustained to his head, must have done something to his memory. The only thing that was coming to him from farther back than the current day was the image of a little girl. He had no idea what it meant.

Ludwig sighed and leaned back in his seat at the ornate table.

"Forgive me, but I'm having some trouble believing all of this.

Gilbert worried his lower lip between his teeth, thinking. He had never in his life had to be the one to explain Nationhood. That responsibility had always rested with his grandfather. He had had no idea it would be this difficult, especially for someone as intelligent as his younger brother. They defied all logic, every piece of understanding the world had, and yet they existed, in secret, outside the world of humans, living for them behind the curtain Ludwig needed to understand this if he wanted to stay alive.

But the thing that really irritated Gilbert was the way he had said he didn't believe him. So prim and proper and... _Austrian_. He would have to fix that.

"I don't blame you for being skeptical, Kleine. It's all really unbelievable. But I promise, I'm telling you the truth. Focus closely on your surroundings. That little pull you're feeling at the edge of your mind is me. you're sensing my presence just like I'm sensing yours."

Ludwig narrowed his eyes, his gaze jumping from one of Gilbert's bright red eyes to the other, scrutinizing him deeply.

Gilbert sighed again, his long fingers moving up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"What if I showed you?" asked Gilbert.

"How?"

"Easy."

Gilbert got to his feet, moving over to the counter, his hand outstretched for the knife that lay there.

"Remember how I told you Nations can't provide lasting, physical harm to themselves?"

Ludwig nodded, eyeing the knife in his brother's hand with confusion.

"Watch."

Without another word, Gilbert lifted the sleeve of his shirt, bringing the knife down on his forearm. A quiet moan escaped him as he dragged the knife across his own skin, breaking it to the point that red droplets of blood spilled over the edges of the cut and ran down his arm. He looked at his brother, whose blue eyes had widened in shock and horror as he witnessed the self-mutilation.

"Relax," Gilbert said softly. "Look, it's already healing."

And indeed it was. Even as Ludwig watched, the skin that had broken was knitting itself back together as if with tiny, invisible needles, closing the wound so no more blood could escape. In a few moments, Gilbert's skin had closed, left as smooth and even as if the cut had never been there. Ludwig had no words.

"Awesome, right?" Gilbert said again, rolling his sleeve back down. "You can try it if you want to but I should warn you, you're much weaker than I am so it'll take longer to heal."

"I'll take your word for it," said Ludwig, raising a polite hand to decline the offered weapon.

"Okay," said Gilbert, putting the knife back down on the counter and moving to kneel in front of his little brother, their eyes at the same level. "But the point I'm trying to make here is that you live in a dangerous world. All the bloodshed in history, every war, every battle, we've been involved in. Our bodies are all covered in scars from various attacks, our memories are burdened with some truly awful thoughts. The life of a Nation isn't an easy one. And you're probably in more danger than anyone."

"Why?" Ludwig asked, confused and a little frightened.

"It's a long story," said Gilbert, evasively. "I can't tell you all of it. But I can tell you there are a lot of people out there who will try to hurt both of us if they find out you're here. That's why you need to know all of this. It's vital for you to except your path as a Nation and allow me to train you until you're strong enough to be on your own. Until then, you stay with me. You follow all of my orders, no questions asked, and you never, ever go off on your own or with anyone else for any reason. Got it?"

Ludwig hesitated for only a moment before nodding reluctantly. Gilbert knew it was not in the boy to follow orders or be completely co-dependent. This would be a challenging time for him. Poor kid.

"How long will that last... how long will it be before I can follow my own path?"

"It'll take time, Kliene," said Gilbert regretfully. "I'll start training you once you've fully recovered. Until then, you'll have to stay in bed and rest. You need to get your strength back."

"From what, exactly?" Ludwig asked a bit harshly.

Gilbert knew he would be curious. Who wouldn't wonder what had happened to ruin their memory and alter their life so drastically. But Ludwig couldn't know he had once been the Holy Roman Empire. He was in enough danger as it was, and Gilbert would not allow that danger to be intensified. As they say, ignorance is bliss.

"There was a battle. You got hurt. That's all you need to know."

Ludwig looked as if he wanted to prod for more but Gilbert cut him off with a raise of his hand. Icy horror had suddenly risen within him like a snake, a fear so deep he thought his heart might pound its way out of his chest. He had felt something, a tug at the edge of his sense alerting him to a presence. Someone was on his land, someone he hated, and from the feel of it was heading toward his house at an unbelievable speed... even for a Nation.

"Get in the basement."

"What?"

"Come on!"

Gilbert jumped up wildly, nearly knocking his head against the table in his haste. Without a word he grabbed hold of his brother's hand, dragging him for the kitchen, ignoring his protests and stumbles as he ran them through the house, stopping at the basement door and wrenching it open.

"Go now. Stay down there until I come to get you. Go!"

"But why?" asked Ludwig.

"Do as I say! Quickly!"

Ludwig hesitated for only a moment longer before doing as Gilbert asked.

"Stay in the far corner and do not move for anything!" He shouted the command just as the doorbell rang.

"What do you want, Austria," Gilbert spat, not bothering for pleasantries as he wrenched the door open.

"Polite as always," Austria quipped. "I want my carriage back and an apology for your behavior."

Gilbert groaned.

"The carriage you passed on the way to the door. As for the apology, check your ass. It may be shoved up there."

"Why you-!"

Gilbert attempted to shut the door in Austria's face but the Austrian man stood in his way, pushing against the door with just as much strength as Gilbert.

""Prussia!"

"Get off my land!"

"Prussia, you-!"

Austria stopped struggling so suddenly Gilbert almost fell over.

"Is someone here?"

Gilbert froze, his heart stopping in his chest.

"No," Gilbert said too quickly.

"That's odd...," Austria mumbled more to himself than Gilbert. "It almost feels like-"

"There's no one here!"

Austria suddenly looked at Gilbert, a look of shock and horror on his aristocratic face.

"What do you think you're doing?" Austria asked. "You can't possibly be hiding-"

"What I do in my own home is none of your business!" Gilbert shouted.

"Prussia if you're up to anything illegal-"

"Leave. Now."

"Prussia-"

"I said go!" Gilbert was not a patient man and Austria had pushed him well past his boiling point. "Take your damn carriage and get off my property before I shoot off your manhood!"

"That would hurt."

"No shit, Sherlock. Now get out."

"Fine," Austria said stiffly. "But, whatever you're up to, I caution you."

"Yeah, yeah, thank you, stuffy," Gilbert said with a roll of his eyes, before slamming his front door shut and leaning against it, breathing heavily.

They were in trouble. Austria had recognized Ludwig's aura. Gilbert doubted he would believe what he had felt, and even if he had, Gilbert knew he would not do anything to put Ludwig in harm's way. The stuffy aristocrat loved Ludwig almost as much as Gilbert did. Still, he was uncomfortable with the possibility of anyone else finding out. He would have to talk to his boss about isolation.

The clip-clopping sound of hooves broke him from his thoughts. Moving over to his window, he watched the carriage speeding away until Austria's Aura disappeared from his senses and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Gott sei Dank..."

Without another moment's hesitation, Gilbert ran back to his basement door and wrenched it open.

"What was that?" Ludwig asked the moment his brother appeared on the landing.

"Unexpected family visit," said Gilbert, descending the steps and straightening his coat.

"Family visit?" Ludwig repeated confused.

"Austria," Gilbert said it as if he were spitting out an awful swearword. "Our older cousin."

"I take it you don't like him?" Ludwig asked.

"How'd you guess? What are you doing?"

Ludwig looked up from his crouched position on the basement floor. In front of him, sat an old, dusty box in which he appeared to be rummaging.

"Just... appeasing my curiosity."

"So you were snooping."

Ludwig face went red but Gilbert only laughed.

"What'd you find?" he asked, crouching down next to his younger brother.

"Just a bunch of old notebooks."

Gilbert peered into the box, wondering what Ludwig could have stumbled upon.

"Oh, hey, these are my old battle records!" this was a lot more exciting to him than it should have been.

"Battle records?" Ludwig repeated.

"Yup. a record of every battle I've ever been in dating back to 22 AD."

"Wow."

"Yeah, it's a big deal."

"Actually," Ludwig said with a smirk, "I was just impressed by your enthusiasm."

"Yeah, I'd slap you upside the head but that might aggravate your injury."

Ludwig chuckled.

"Actually," Gilbert said pulling out a few of the notebooks and skimming through them, "you should take these."

"Why?"

"You need to know your history," Gilbert explained. "And it'll give you something to do while you're on bed rest.

Ludwig groaned. Gilbert understood. The boy had always been incredible active, always running around or fighting, chasing after little Italy... being held up in bed for another several weeks would be miserable for him.

"I know, I know," Gilbert said, straightening up and motioning for Ludwig to follow suit. "But you need to recover before you can do anything. It'll just be a few weeks. You'll survive. Now take these and get back in bed.

Grudgingly, Ludwig obliged.


End file.
